


i left the only home i knew

by murakamism



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Painter Levi, Post-Canon, it has a lot of fluff i promise, old man levi has too many memories and gets lonely basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 10:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4915249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murakamism/pseuds/murakamism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the war ends, Eren leaves to see the world. Levi paints, grows old, and tries to recreate vibrant green eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i left the only home i knew

**Author's Note:**

> title is from "cold cold water" by mirah. this fic is further proof that i tried to write angst but was weak and wrote fluff instead.

“Stop fussing,” Levi grumbles, his brows furrowing in concentration. Eren squirms on the couch in front of him, mouth pulling into a small frown.

“I just scratched my nose!”

Levi snorts, taking his eyes off the canvas and focusing on the boy in front of him. Eren tries to continue his previous pose and expression but it’s different—Levi notes every change. His jaw is tense, his eyes are more serious, and his body is much too stiff.

Eren is always moving, always dynamic. Perhaps it was cruel to expect him to sit still for this. Levi had always hated those nobles who had their portraits done—imagine how vain you had to be to sit still for hours on end just for a self-portrait, he wonders.

But this is Eren, and Levi always wants a memory of Eren. He wants to create something so he won’t eventually forget. Because Eren is always moving, always traveling. Eren is growing older and wiser and more handsome and one day he will leave his captain behind.

And Levi will never allow himself to forget that youthful face, or those vibrant eyes, or those passionate hands, but some mornings it takes too much effort to just get out of bed. He knows that he is powerless to fight an entire lifetime’s worth of accumulated stress and injury. He may be Humanity’s Strongest but his era is almost over—after all, hadn’t the other veterans left this world as well? It’s only Hanji who still bounces about now. Perhaps they’re only alive by sheer force of will.

Once again, Levi’s mood has gone sour.

He glances at the barely filled in sketch in front of him. The figure on the canvas does not yet have Eren’s face or Eren’s hair. Levi wonders if it would ever be possible to truly capture him, to paint him in the right light that he deserves.

Levi wants to capture Eren in his calmness, with a tiny smile that glows brighter than the sun. He wants to look at the image and know that Eren had loved him, once upon a time.

Or that Eren had ever been happy to be here—

“Levi?” Eren asks, voice quiet and tentative. It breaks Levi from his trance. He’s been staring idly into the distance, the captain realizes. He clears his throat and stares back at the one who had called his attention, at the one who had been busy occupying his thoughts.

“Can I see?” Eren continues, leaning forward. His face lights up with hope and Levi swallows, glancing towards the canvas.

It’s incomplete. It fills him with shame. He cannot ever hope to capture Eren’s image. Not like this at least. He sighs and throws a cloth over the easel, effectively covering the canvas.

“No,” Levi says. Eren shrugs, not really having expected anything else.

“So does this mean we can take a break?” he asks instead. Eren has never asked Levi why he wanted to paint him. When Levi had requested it Eren was both confused and shy. But he didn’t question it, even when he squirmed under the captain’s piercing stare. Even when he had grown restless he continued to sit there, his green eyes attentive as he watched Levi’s attempts to paint.

The captain wonders what Eren has concluded about him.

Levi stands up and washes the paint from his hands and his brushes. Painting is messy and pisses him off more than he thinks it should, but there’s something about being able to create something rather than destroy for once that soothes him. In this world after the titans, maybe he can finally allow himself to see the world in all its colors.

And at first all he wanted was to make things tangible. Not those cold memories that haunt him in his sleep, but rather the warm ones. There were still warm memories. He knows that much.

Levi had hoped for peace and he got it. He got quiet and calm. But he grows restless. His body aches for action, for fire. His days are empty now. How can he fill them up? How can he stop himself from growing old and senile and lonely?

Eren creeps up behind him. He holds out a cup of steaming tea. When Levi grasps it he gives a low thanks. Eren smiles, looking perfectly at home in the captain’s kitchen. It makes Levi’s chest hurt with fondness. He wants to reach out and kiss him. But would that be right? Eren will leave for an expedition in two days. He doesn’t know when he’ll return. If he’ll return. And this is no longer just a matter of whether he will die or not; this is a matter of choice.

Wouldn’t Eren be happier somewhere else? Doesn’t he deserve to find his paradise? His home?

He taps Eren gently on the chin instead. It’s something he does when it’s only the two of them. It can mean anything but most of all it means affection—but what kind of affection Eren will have to decide for himself. Eren’s ears always grow pink at the gesture, but he grins even wider anyway. He looks giddy, almost ready to explode. Levi leans against the sink and takes a sip of his tea. It had taken years, but Eren finally knows how to make it the way Levi likes.

“I think being a painter suits you,” Eren blurts out. Levi blinks.

“No it doesn’t. It’s just an old fart’s pastime.”

“Well, you are an old fart—“

Levi kicks him in the shin and Eren laughs, stepping backwards to avoid his boot.

“Okay, okay, I didn’t understand it at first. But I think I kind of do now. And I’m very happy for you, Levi.”

Levi stares at him. He wants to ask what suddenly brought this on, but deep inside he knows. As the expedition nears Eren grows more and more jittery. It’s the happy kind, not the nervous one, and while Levi hates the idea that Eren would be happier without him, he also acknowledges that it’s good that Eren still has a future to look forward to.

The captain’s life after the war is quiet. Almost serene. It drives him crazy sometimes. But he knows he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. After everything, after everyone, Levi wants to sit still in one place and rebuild.

Create. Simmer.

Eren is not even twenty.

Levi wonders what would happen if he fisted his hand in Eren’s hair and pressed their mouths together in a kiss. Would Eren reject him? Would Eren accept him? Would Eren be angry that he’d do this now, right before the expedition? Would it push him to never come back? To never have peace of mind because he knows that the captain is in love with him? If Eren did not return his affections Levi knows the boy would fret over it. They both seem happy with their current companionship. Levi wouldn’t want to ruin it for him. Not now.

He drinks his tea and doesn’t reply. Eren leans his hip against the counter beside him and looks out into the far window.

These two days will go too quickly.

 

 

Levi sees Eren and the rest of his friends off. There is greeting and waving and smiling, and the townspeople whoop as they say goodbye. Levi doesn’t say anything, just watches and watches. He makes eye contact with Eren right before he turns away to face the horizon. The boy beams, gripping his reins, and Levi tilts his head to the side as an acknowledgement.

As soon as they go out into the distance Levi turns away.

That night Levi sits on his bed, pulling away the cloth from the easel to reveal his canvas. It’s illuminated by lamplight and the moon.

He frowns and gets up.

He tries to fill in Eren’s face, paint his eyes from memory. What colors should he use? How should he add in the light? How does he fix the curve of Eren’s brows?

This is wrong.

This is all wrong.

It’s just an image. Just a painting. Of course it doesn’t look like the real thing. Of course it only makes him even lonelier—

He grips his brush so hard his hand shakes. The wood between his fingers cracks but does not break. Levi wants to throw this canvas away. Wants to bring out his blades and tear it apart. This is not Eren. This is him fooling himself that he could ever find peace.

Levi removes the canvas from the easel but he doesn’t throw it away. He grips it so hard he wonders if it will break. But no, instead he wraps it tightly in an old blanket and hides it at the back of his closet. He’ll force himself to forget that this thing ever existed.

On impulse, almost before he can think things through, he grabs another empty canvas and props it up against the easel. He grabs a brush and a palette, several tubes of paint. He finds the pencil he had kept and decides, now or never—

No one will ever have to know.

Levi starts on another sketch. This one is an old memory. Some days he wonders if it was simply a dream, but he knows it was true. It had happened.

This is it: Eren crouching down in a field of flowers, his tattered cloak billowing out behind him, his skin emitting steam like a ghost about to be blown away by the wind...

They were free.

Levi remembers the last fall, the last battle, the image of the defeated Ape Titan. Eren, in his Titan form, had roared out into the heavens. All the other soldiers had screamed out their victory as well. Whether beaten or bloody, or half-unconscious, or limping on one leg...

The captain had cut Eren out of his titan form and held the boy’s body close to his own. Eren’s eyelids were falling quickly and he slumped over, Levi quick to catch him. The captain held him up, buried his face into Eren’s hair and whispered quietly, “We did it, Eren. We did it.”

Eren gripped the back of his shirt in a silent reply before slipping into a short but deep sleep.

The next day they were yet to go home. They counted supplies and helped the injured. For once, they collected the bodies and decided to find a suitable place to bury them.

A few more rituals would not kill them. There were no titans.

The world outside the Walls was much brighter, much more beautiful.

And they had found a field of flowers in bloom—thriving green grass dotted with red, blue, purple, and yellow. Eren had run into it and laughed, throwing his arms up into the air and spinning around, throwing his head back to catch the sun.

Levi knows he had smiled.

Because Eren looked at him and smiled back—wide and genuine and thrilled to be alive.

Eren had called him over so Levi followed, carefully stepping through the fields. He stepped over the flowers, careful not to crush them, as he watched the boy. A breeze blew through, making the flowers dance. Eren crouched down, a smile playing on his lips, as he moved to hold a single petal.

Would he pluck it? Make a crown like he had done before? Eren would look even more radiant, Levi had wondered. But Eren didn’t pluck anything. He sat there, on his knees, pondering.

He looked up and told Levi, “I want to return to these fields someday. Maybe another expedition.”

Levi had nodded. “There are many more others like this one.”

Eren grinned back and Levi knew, there and then, that he had to do something.

He leaned forward, wanting to capture Eren’s lips in a spontaneous kiss...

But instead had to look away as a sneeze emerged from him. The captain’s eyes widened as he held up a hand to cover his nose, hating himself in that single moment.

Yet Eren had laughed, and insisted that they leave now before the captain got a cold.

Levi had never tried to take another opportunity ever since.

Then isn’t it his fault that he was left behind? That Eren doesn’t know the extent of the fondness this captain has for him?

It was too late.

Levi paints and paints in a frenzy, waiting for night to turn into day.

 

 

Eren and his friends do not return the next spring.

Levi has finished two more paintings but they have yet to be seen by anyone other than him. Instead, the captain decides to do more manual labor. It helps keep his mind off things, helps to distract him and keep him busy. He mostly helps people rebuild—at least he’s still useful these days.

Hanji likes to talk his ear off but they also disappear for days at a time, probably still working on new research. Levi’s surprised that they hadn’t gone with the others, but when he’d asked Hanji about it Hanji only smiled, shaking their head.

Maybe they would join the next one, Hanji said.

On a whim—or more for want of something to do—Levi buys some seeds and digs up his backyard, ready to turn it into a garden. He decides on vegetables because that would be more practical. Hanji asks for some of his crop and he steadfastly refuses, telling them to get their own.

But the tomatoes ripen, along with the squash and the others, and he decides to give Hanji some of each anyway.

Winter in this part of the world outside the Walls isn’t so bad. Levi still shivers uncontrollably some early mornings and he curses everyone and everything. He wraps himself up in too many blankets, shuts all the windows, and tries to go back to sleep.

There are no snow storms but he still feels dreadfully cold.

One of his crops dies.

Spring arrives once more. Levi tries replacing one vegetable for another. Some kids try to steal his fruit and he yells at them for it. Isn’t he turning into more of an old man, Hanji asks? But he just glares at her and doesn’t reply, because it is true.

That summer a few of Eren’s friends return from the expedition. Eren is not one of them.

Levi tells himself that he will not expect anything, because at least that saves him from the disappointment.

As long as they say that Eren is healthy and happy, it will be enough.

The next year arrives. Levi spends New Years Eve alone until Hanji bursts into his house, holding several bottles of wine that threaten to fall and shatter on his wooden floor.

The next morning he’s too hungover to do anything.

Winter dies. Spring arrives, then summer, then fall, then another winter.

Sometimes, Levi paints what he sees. Other times he paints what he remembers. Other times he paints what he imagines.

He wonders how Eren must look now—all grown up and hardened by his travels. Is he still the same boy from Levi’s memory? Levi tries to draw him older but fails, because he’d rather see the real thing for himself.

His leg aches too, in those blurry early mornings, and Levi feels that his bed is much too big.

(Hanji would say that he’s just grown shorter in old age, and for once Levi tells himself that must be it.)

 

 

Before they had left for the final battle Levi had found Eren sitting on the edge of the Wall, overlooking the night sky.

Eren had looked much older underneath that full moon.

They didn’t say much, just sat next to each other and watched the landscape unfold under starlight.

Soon, Levi had nudged Eren to go to bed.

“Get some rest,” he’d said, and promptly stood up.

Eren had looked up at him, his green eyes glowing with an emotion Levi couldn’t quite place.

But if Eren wanted to say something important, it had never come.

Instead he bid the captain good night and they separated into their quarters.

Levi had painted this memory too.

 

 

One hot summer noon, Levi swears as he hears steady knocking against his door.

He’s fresh from the garden, already changing into a different shirt. This knocking is too polite to be Hanji’s and too strong to be a timid kid asking about their ball that had fallen into Levi’s garden.

When the captain—no, he hadn’t been a captain in years—opens the door, he stands still and frozen stiff.

A young man stands proudly in front of him, his wide shoulders thrown back and a gentle smile on his lips.

Levi would not recognize him if not for those eyes.

“Eren.”

Those green eyes have haunted him day and night. He has tried to recreate their vitality with paint, has shut his eyes and seen their owner laughing.

Eren grins wider, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

He is older, taller, sun-kissed, world-weary, happy and buzzing—

“Captain Levi.”

Levi breathes, blinking back the wonderment. Is this real? Is he dreaming once more?

“I didn’t know you were returning,” Levi says. He takes a step forward.

Despite all the time that has passed, he finds himself slipping into casual conversation. But it doesn't matter that there are no declarations of love, no tears flowing, no apologies. There is nothing to apologize for, nothing to cry over. Eren has returned, has come to see him.

His paintings are nothing compared to this.

“I had to come back eventually,” Eren replies, eyes not wavering from Levi’s.

“What, the rest of the world not good enough for you?” Levi shoots. Instead of a reply Eren lunges forward and carefully tucks himself against Levi, embraces him tightly and buries his face into the older man’s shoulder even though he’s much taller.

Levi almost falls backward.

He hugs Eren back.

Eren sniffs, clutching him tighter. He still acts like a puppy, like the kid Levi had known in the quiet corners of headquarters, like the awkward teenager with his mumbled conversation and fierce blush. Eren is still so achingly familiar, even if he’s grown so much taller, even if he’s been gone for years.

And this boy, this young man, has grown tired and has seen the world—

Does he want roots too?

“I did it,” Eren says. “We did it. We saw the world. And... I’m back.”

“Welcome back,” Levi replies quietly, not wanting to let go even if they’re standing in the damn doorway.

“I’m home.”

Levi’s caught off-guard but he finds himself smiling away, smiling against Eren’s hair. He realizes that a part of him had been hoping for this, had always been hoping for this. Levi had waited despite not wanting to, and now...

What is a memory, what is a dream, what is imagining compared to this?

“Welcome home.”


End file.
